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Seraph

Before we start, the world I live in is much diffe

Rain, it hammers down my back. Heavy shackles slow me a I walk in the mud.I’m not alone. Maybe forty others walk with me. We are all where shackles on our wrist and ankles. There’s a long chain locking us together. They are all from different races. We were all unfortunate to be spotted by an elven patrol. Now we were heading for the same fate, slavery. We would of been more lucky if it was a Vampire patrol. As ironic as it seems, they are more humane. It still doesn’t change the fact they are allies with the humans. My entire race wishes they were dead. Than again, my race is separated into two groups. There’s the light-folk, and then there’s the fallen. I’m one of the fallen. My black wings make that very clear. My kind isn’t accepted among any race really. The orcs are fairly debatable. The imps, they are just the imps. They hate everyone. Every now and then you do find a decent kind Imp.

“Hey! You!” I turn my head to see the line stop suddenly. What happened?
A elven guard throws
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an Fallen to the ground. I can hear a crack from where I am, which isn;t far. Maybe about five people between. It was a male fallen. Fellow slaves whisper down that the fallen had tripped. “What do you think your doing?” The guard adds. Elves are out for blood. I still don’t understand how their ears can be so long. They are often the length of their heads. Elves are often very tall. The females tend to be taller, reaching seven feet tall.

“I’m sorry” The fallen says. He sits on his knees now. His black hair falling into his face as his head points downwards. It’s impossible to make out his eyes. But my sharp eye sight tell me, they are probably grey. My common knowledge actually tells me that. It’s common for my kind to have black hair with grey eyes. Although, that’s not always true. For example, I have brown hair with eyes to match it.

“I’m sorry” The guard mocks in a high-pitched voice. He knees the fallen in the stomach. The elf takes a dagger and holds the fallen’s head up.
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The lf carefully places the blade on his neck. I swallow hard, elves hate my kind. They especially hate the fallen. The fallen are more complicated than the light-folk. We all came from the light-folk. One of them rebelled, not liking how the high council ignored problems like these, slavery. They casted him out and he had one follower in which they became partners. Centuries later here we are.

We are often thought as evil. Yes, some of us very well are. But that’s because it’s in our blood to not settle down. If we feel something is wrong, we want it to stop. That isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes it can be like cancer, a thought comes into your head and it takes over. It’s spreading and soon, you follow that thought. Like now, I know it's not rational to act out and help that fallen. But I want to. If I’m not careful, it could control me and cause my doom. I’m okay about controlling myself, but sometimes it’s too much. It’s like an instinct. You can’t just ignore it at times.




I
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feel the emotion shift. Every jumps and looks away. I am pulled out of my thoughts. The guard killed him. My chest feels heavy and it feels hard to breathe. Despite differences in the fallen, we consider everyone family. When we see one of us die, it’s like we lost our sibling. It’s not something you can forget. Can you imagine seeing your brother or sister dying in front of you? Without caring? I hope not.

The line continues, and I start to follow. My patience level isn’t the best, I hope we get there soon, despite the location. I just want to get out of the rain and mud. The clay like mud coats my legs, all the way up to the knee. Some is splattered above it from the others in front of me. What makes it worse, my kind often doesn’t wear shoes. All I’m wearing now are shorts and a grey t-shirt. Of course the other stuff, but no shoes.

I look up to see that we are entering a wooden barn-like building. I hadn’t noticed before, I was on autopilot. That’s something I tend to
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